Legend of the Dragonborn
by Avalia Night
Summary: You would think they would have a category for Skyrim... Well, anyway. This is the story of an 18 year old Imperial by the name of Aurora Spiritrend. She has been accused of spying on the imperials... Rated M for blood/horror/gore/Lemons


_ I am in a cart…_

This is the first thought that pops into my head as I open my eyes to see swirling snow and bright sunlight. I groan; throbbing pain like someone is pounding my head with hammers hurts me. _How did I get here? _I wonder and then remember. I was at the border of the imperials and the Stormcloaks and was trying to escape back onto imperial soil with spy plans for the imperials. A Stormcloak soldier saw me and attacked, knocking me out and then exchanging my plans with plans from the imperials and turning me in to the Imperial soldiers at the border. I rub my face gently, wincing as my rough, calloused hand brushes over my still open wound that I received from the nasty Stormcloak soldier. I attempt to slip back into unconsciousness, but find myself to restless. Something scratches angrily at my leg and a loud mew jerks me out of my thoughts.

"That your devil cat, Lass?" I look at the man directly in front of me. His face is rugged and scars line the area where is left cheek should be. He seems to be talking to me, but it takes me a moment to register this.

"Who? Nima? She's no devil cat… usually. I don't know why she is being like this." I scratch the she-cat behind her black ears and she purrs, still restless, but at least not scratching my bare leg anymore.

"Here's some clothes young'n." I lurch as a tunic and a pair of trousers is thrown at me. I attempt to pull them over my head when I realize my hands are tied. "Mr. Guard Sire, can you take these off for a second so I can look decent for my trial." The guard laughs, but he unties them, allowing me to pull the raggedy clothes on. After I am done, the guard puts my hand together and reties them. We both get back onto the cart, for it had stopped for me, and continue the journey.

We soon arrive at a large gate that leads into Helgen. After we pass through it, I look to the back of me when I hear a young boy's voice. "Daddy, I wanna watch the soldiers…" The boy says. I can tell the father is about to say something back when he catches my eye. His look softens as he stares at me and suddenly I recognize him from my time in Helgen. Of course, back then I was here with my father as a young child.

"Terra Battle-Born?" I yell out to the man as the cart passes his house. I see him nod and smile. I see wetness glinting on his cheeks in the sunlight. At least someone thinks I am innocent. The cart jolts to a stops and I fly off my seat into the man who had commented on my cat earlier. "Sorry…" My cheeks grow red with embarrassment as I pick myself up and jump out of the back of the cart. I instantly know something is wrong. There is no trial; there is a block with a man holding an axe next to it. "This isn't a trial, it's an execution!" I whisper to the man.

"You didn't know that?" He whispers back to me as tears stream down my eyes.

"Are you _sure_ this name is correct?" I hear the guard say.

"It's a shock for sure, but they wouldn't put it on there if it wasn't right." The woman on his left answers him with a slight sigh.

"Alright…" He breathes. "Aurora Spiritmend of Whiterun?" I hear a few gasps, but I walk up, my tears gone.

"Yes?"

"To the block. Your father would be disappointed in the path you chose. Jarl Polas Spiritmend would definitely be turning in his grave." He shakes his head and I open my mouth to respond, but I can't think of any words. Turning towards the crowd already gathered in the center of the town, I walk towards them, knowing that every step takes me closer to my death.

"As we commend your souls to Etherias, we…" The priestess is cut off as someone pushes through the crowd.

"Let's just get this over with." The Nord says in a gruff tone of voice. I roll my eyes; I'd rather have listened to the priestess if it meant prolonging my time in this world. I look away as the man is pushed down. The whoosh of the axe tells me that the brave man's life is about to end and, even turned away, I close my eyes as the axe swings down, cleaving through flesh and bone. I feel as if I am going to throw up as I look back at the block. Blood glints on the executioner's axe and the man's body, headless and bloody, has rolled off the block while his head stays in the basket.

"Aurora Spiritmend!" I freeze, my feet refuse to move. Sounds around me are in slow motion. The only sound I hear is a dull roar, like the sound a waterfall makes on the rocks below it. I attempt to force myself to move. My mouth is dry and my lips are cracked. I am angry. Suddenly, I regain control of my body and march to the front where the executioner is standing. I gaze at the crowd, steadying myself in order to say what I want to say.

"Can you live with yourself when the day is done? Sure, you've killed many demonic people, but what about the innocent. Can you live with yourself after you kill me? A girl, 18, I have my whole life ahead of me. My only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time." I turn my steady gaze to the guard who had talked about my father. "You're wrong, my father would be proud of me. I spied on not the imperials, for which I was accused. I spied on the Stormcloaks." I hear gasps of anger coming from my fellow prisoners. "Yes, I spied on the Stormcloaks. My father was killed by Stormcloaks, yet people disregard that fact. I am next of kin. Next to be Jarl of Whiterun, yet that too is disregarded. Evidently, even though my father was killed by the Stormcloaks, the imperials, of which I am one, say I work for the Stormcloaks." I give a small bow and walk to the block, steeling myself for what is to come.

I am pushed down onto the block. I almost lose my last meal as I see the head in the wicker basket on the ground. Blood from the previous prisoner stains my neck when I twist my head. I don't close my eyes, I smile. I want to be remembered as someone brave. I feel the air displace as the axe is swung up, but the blow never comes.


End file.
